Disoriented
by her-eyes-fiery-pinpricks
Summary: Stay, stay, I convince myself. There can't be any giving up. No stopping, at all. That's what we all promised when it first happened. I swore it. I told them I wouldn't give in. No turning around and crying. None of what I'm used to doing. No being weak... -AU. Not in xover section bc of reasons. More explanation inside-
1. Staying

**Jess POV**

Backing up will only get me so far.

If these…_things_ could be any less noisy, my nerves wouldn't be constantly over capacity. Their faces—gray, red scabs dripping blood, jaws lazily rising and falling. But I don't try to look at where it's bleeding.

I've managed to stay awake this long and I intend to stay so. You have to be now.

They never sleep.

A group, maybe seven, staggering down the hall, grumbling with each step. I've used up all of my space. The dead end will meet me in a few seconds—

There! My back crashes into the wall. And even though they are slow, they don't cease their steps…I didn't bring a weapon. We gave them all to Mandy and Terry and Charlie in the big room. I don't have anything that could do as something sharp—the table? The small table on my left side.

Fifteen feet away.

I grasp the table with two hands, and attempt to lift it. Too heavy! Bolted to the floor. My arms ache with the sudden, blitzed effort, and I try to stay composed, and to not look up, their bloody faces will catapult me to darkness before they even get the chance to bite my shoulder—

I feels the walls behind me, still facing the oncoming horde, my eyes closed, my breathing struggling to stay steady, grabbing for anything.

Ten.

I can duck and crawl through their legs. I'm tiny. And that will throw them off their feet. But then they'll fall on top off me and—the thought makes me sick and distressed and dizzy and I dismiss it.

_Stay, stay,_ I convince myself. There can't be any giving up. No stopping, at all. That's what we all promised when it first happened. I swore it. I told them I wouldn't give in. No turning around and crying. None of what I'm used to doing. No being weak—

Five!

Heart sprinting, my reaching fingers find a doorknob behind me. _It's a door. _Grip it and twist and there's an opening behind me and I go inside the dark room and leave the door and the ghost of me for the Clawers to graze at.

My name hits me before the smell. "Jessie!"

"Finn," I answer, keeping my palms high on the door, letting my heart slow down, my eyes still squeezed shut. The noise of the Clawers still come through. But they can't hurt me. They can't get to me there.

But here? I spin around, searching for a threat, but it's too dark and too quiet in this room. And smells too bloody and like…decay. The effort throws my head into turmoil.

"Jess, don't look anywhere, and don't look where you think I am." Okay. I won't. I don't wanna look at anything…what I want is to get out of here.

Why did we decide to get a new house for shelter? Our other one was completely fine.

Oh. It got overrun by Clawers. I forget that quickly—and that's why she should stay outside, because we can move easier there. I tell them that everyday and they don't listen to me.

"Jess, breathe," he says, sounding like he just went through an ordeal of his own. I hate how I've become the weakest of the group just because of my fear of blood. I guess, in actuality, it does make me the weakest…I don't like being taken care of, though. "Are you alright?"

The door supporting me, shutting out the Clawer's commotion, I lean my head back against the door. One knee bent. Can't lock them. "Oh…kay." Things start to get heavier and harder to understand and my head isn't attached to me and the dizziness is taking over again but it's just my head, not my whole body—if it's my whole body, then I'm in trouble.

I push through the haze. I have to. I shove the words out. "Why don't you come over here so I know you're not a Clawer?"

"They don't talk. And I can't. I'm completely fine, it's just my shirt that's not. Clawer…left themselves all over me…"

"Yep. Got the picture." I sigh. Sure helps me a lot. "You got them all?"

"Easily. I guess that door locks behind you but we'll stick some furniture behind it just increase the group increases."

"Thank God."

"You're not often the one to thank anyone."

"There's not too many people in the world anymore to thank," I answer, keeping a hand over my nose.

"That's what happen when you're with us too long," he laughs. "You're clothes get dirty and your hair is filthy and you want to be with anyone else but us."

"You guys have kept helpless little me alive for this long," I remark. "But I want to see if Mandy is alright."

"Got it. Head towards the door—near that lamp? I'm gonna come over here and make sure they won't get through."

**Amanda POV**

The whole world must be gone.

Char is to my right and Maybeck is to my left. I've stayed behind them, almost the whole time…this sharp spear I hold, which we found a few houses ago, I haven't had to use it yet and I don't want to ever—

I know they aren't people. I know that they can hurt me and Jess and Finn and I'm still afraid of killing them. I'm afraid of killing anything, and with my luck I live in a world now where I can't be scared. There's no time to be scared now...

"Mand, you alright?" Maybeck asks.

"Yeah," I answer. Both of my friends have the same kind of weapon as I do. We ran out of ammo just this morning. Our group has shot the gun only a few times, just the guys have, and only on the Clawers, and never in the head, where it'll kill them—just in their leg or arm so it'll slow them down.

They understand that these things are dangerous but they still don't have the heart to end them like that. We were just thrown into this mess…and I want out but there's no way…

"There must be a larger room adjacent to this one," Charlene remarks. "They just keep on coming in."

This rooms smells musty and the dated furniture is damaged, pushed against the wall. The navy wallpaper makes it darker than it already is, being that it's late night.

The Clawers have black eyes and missing limbs. Much, much uglier than what I would have thought the dead would look like alive. Probably looking a lot like us, though, with the torn clothes and wild hair. Groups of ten tottering toward us, and we're keeping our distance, behind a…pile…of the Clawers, then extending our weapons, getting them in the head. A cycle. Hoping the flow doesn't increase.

I'm trying to stay useful by kicking the Clawers back or sticking their lower bodies but they're coming too fast, and it's too loud and Charlie and Maybeck are getting them down so so quickly. Normally I'm a step ahead of things. I'm always the one with the plan. Right now I'm so unsettled to move more than slightly forward.

My escape into my thought opens up my area and a Clawer manages to climb over the pile and pin Charlie back. She shrieks and I realize myself.

"No!" Maybeck exclaims, caught up with a Clawer stuck in his spear. "Manda!"

I don't know how to react, as the weapon becomes so heavy and the target so tiny and the range where I can get the Clawer and not Charlie is dangerous and—

Her screeches convince me that I have to do this and I stab the Clawer in the eye and it slides down Charlie's body and thumps onto the floor, the loudest sound all night.

Char doesn't even pause to run over to me and grab my shoulders and ask, "You alright? You're so pale."

We've gotten used to the motion of disregarding ourselves and seeing if the one next to is okay. And that's why I feel selfish, letting my fear take over what needs to be done…what I don't wanna do…what I feel horrible for doing…

I nod, but I know I'm shaking and that if I stay here any longer they're gonna get us all. A Clawer approaches the both of us and Maybeck kicks it down and jabs it repeatedly in the head. Charlie disconnects and goes back to defending the area. Quivering with each strike I look away and try to shake off this uneasiness inside me.

It's won't go away. I don't answer the other two's questions because I'm trying too hard…to get the sound of the Clawer's drop out of my head…but it just won't leave.

I raise the spike.

**Philby POV**

"I can't hear anything."

"That's the good thing about them…you know when they're coming."

"But it's in droves." Willa carefully watches her footing in this dark, small room. Maybe a bedroom. Our sneakers are worn and it can take one wrong step on something sharp to impair us. All we seem to do now is walk. Kind of like the Clawers.

"Not always," I answer. "Not when we're prepared."

"We have three more rooms to clear," Willa sighs. "I'm done. I want to sit down and breathe for a moment."

"We haven't done that for years. Even before this hit."

She shakes her head. Willa's usually the positive one but this constant moving from place to place has worn away her optimism. I miss her smiles and her laughter but she isn't completely gone yet. There's still nights when we're all making jokes and she'll light up.

None of us are completely gone yet.

"We need more weapons."

"We need more ammo."

"I feel like guns are a waste," she says. "No, it's not my pacifist shining through. Guns're unreliable." The crossbow she holds has been attached to her ever since this whole thing started. "You're in an attack and you run out of ammo. You're done."

"Says the girl with ten arrows left."

"And I use them wisely." She smirks. Or something like a smirk that I can determine from the spotty lighting. "It's the only weapon I have on me and you have none right now. So. Stay close."

I nod, taking a good look at her. "I missed that."

"Missed what?"

I don't know how to how to answer, but before I do, I hear the growls.

Willa's at the ready in seconds, firing one arrow after another towards the door, where the Clawers leak in. She backs up with each attack.

"Stay in one spot!" I suggest. I feel useless, with nothing to strike with, but Willa seems to be taking care of it all. I can still offer my ideas.

"Why?"

"So they'll pile up!"

"Do you want to get through this room or not?"

"We could always move the—" I spin around to find a bony corpse walking on stubby legs, reaching for me. I kick him back, and turn to Willa who's quickly losing the arrows—three left! And there's four coming at her.

I stumble back, trying to lead my pursuer away, but it's fast for its apparent deterioration. I test out my idea—I hop to the side and it follows my direction.

I glance over to see Willa drive back a Clawer to the wall, then smash its head with the front of the cross bow. "Wills!"

She looks to me and her eyes alight. "I'm out of them!"

Which I was aware of. "Quick! Pull away the dresser!" I hope she understands my words even though they came out so fast. She looks confused but does as I say, grabbing the sides of the wooden furniture piece that was against the wall and pulling it back.

Keeping my eyes on the gray thing, I back myself up through the space between the wall and the furniture. The Clawer follows me. As soon as I'm out of that area, and the Clawer is still behind the dresser, I shout to Willa and hope she got the message.

I watch as the space is closed and the Clawer is crushed. Bones snap.

It's silent.

"Why didn't you just have me kick it down and get it in the head?" is the first thing she asks.

"It was very quick. Didn't want it to turn around and get you."

She stares. "I don't need any protection."

"Well, I do. You're the one with the weapon."

She stares me down. Then is satisfied. "Nice save."

**Finn POV**

The sound of the Clawers direct me to the main room. I find a group as large as the ones we usually see outside on our runs. Willa and Philby are entering the room from the other side's door.

I try to find Mandy but before I can, I take down a few Clawers, as Jess stays behind me. Willa smashes a few in the head with her crossbow—maybe she ran out of arrows and couldn't retrieve some from the corpses.

There's two straggling around, and I thrust the spear forward in its eye. With a cry, Charlie gets the last one, as Philby locks the doors around us.

That's when Amanda starts screaming.

I whip my head around and I find nothing attacking her, no injuries, but she holds her head in her hands and leans against the wall, her voice strangled and helpless. Jess flies over, taking the shoulders of the shaking girl. Charlie drops her spear, and it stays in the head of the Clawer. She keeps her hands up, not knowing what she did.

She grabs my gaze, shaking her head, eyes huge in confusion. I shake my head.

_"No, no, no!"_ Amanda keeps on screeching and sobbing.

"Is she alright? _Is she alright?"_ I demand from Jess, and only after I say it I realize how my tone doesn't make the situation any easier. Jess frantically looks up and down, searching for a scratch or cut on Amanda but finding none.

"She was fine, she didn't get hurt," Maybeck promises. Trying to convince himself. He has his first good look at me. Sees the red on my shirt, I guess. "Dude, are you alright?"

"Not mine," I mouth. He understands.

"Mandy, Mandy, baby…" Jess whispers desperately. "Mandy, what's wrong?"

"I…I…" She's breathing too hard and crying too much and I want to get over there, but with me covered in Clawer guts…

Charlie looks to us and says softly, "She had to kill one of them. I was trapped and Terry was too and she had to get it—"

Manda hasn't had to kill any of the Clawers yet, ever since it's began. Never said a word about it. But the anxiety in her eyes every time there's an attack or we have to clear a house…I should have known.

I curse and push my hair out of my eyes._ I should be there with her!_

"Finn? Where's Finn?" she asks Jess. Can't hear any of our other voices.

"He's fine," Jess says, smoothing Manda's hair back in an attempt to calm her down.

Amanda sounds and looks scary and red and dangerous, as she asks again. "I swear, Jessie, if he's not and you're lying to me—"

Jess might start crying too. "I promise! I promise he's okay! He just…can't see you…right now…I promise."

I almost want to speak but I don't want to freak her out. None of us know what to do. One wrong move and she's thrown into another whole round of crying.

She tries to look behind her sister and sees the bodies and the spear still stuck through the recently killed Clawer. She yelps, her excessive breathing not coming back as she almost drops in Jess's arms and all of us reach out in unison to help. But she manages to stay upright. And I'm useless here.

And I _hate_ the Clawers.

"Okay, we need to get you off your feet," Jess says, and Mandy forlornly nods her head, biting her bottom lip and hugging herself, as she slides down and sits with her knees close to her chest. Shivering. "Here, hunny," Jess beckons her to lie her head on her shoulder, and her sister refuses, trying to stay strong.

Because we all made that promise to no give up and she applies it even to now.

"Manda…" I try.

A few tears of hers leak out as she obeys, hiding her face from all of us, turning her body into Jessie as her sister strokes the crying girl's hair and whispers things into her ear. I hear her voice softly singing during the silence. Amanda slowly gets calmer and calmer until she's still.

We broke her.

And the nights will only get longer.

"I think we all need a break," Jess says after our silence. She whispers carefully, one arm around her sister. "It's been constant."

We're all in agreement.

Charlie goes off with Philby and Maybeck, looking back with an apologetic look. I don't know who's to blame or if we can even blame a person. It's the Clawers, it all fault…they messed this whole world up…they could have only attacked Florida or only Orlando but they messed up my friend's world. Broke Mandy.

And I won't take that lightly.

Willa comes up to me, taking her mother role yet another night. With her hand on my forearm she tells me, "I'll grab another one of Philby's extra shirts. You stay here with the sisters. We're gonna clear out the Clawers from this room first and burn them outside."

"You sure it won't attract them?"

She waits. "The area is heavy with trees. And we need to get them out of here. I'll burn them myself if I have to."

I know the comment wasn't supposed to sting and she meant it with all of the love in the world. But even Willa's hardened.

"We'll figure out where everyone's sleeping after." And she leaves the room.

Drained, I look over to Jess, who's had her eyes on me. I shake my head.

She gestures her head over to the side, squeezing her eyes shut, scared of the sight of the blood even while she's safe. "Go get changed."

**YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

**So the reason I did not put this in The Walking Dead section also (as in, section of KK crossovers) because I am not including TWD characters in this story. New characters? Perhaps. The only aspect of TWD in this is the Walkers…which I called Clawers…not just "zombies", because then it's uncool.**

**Thought of this back in the beginning of March. And knew that I had to do it. Call me crazy! But today within three hours of doing this I made some new discoveries about the characters and that's what I'm here on this site for—to get as close as I can to seven characters I love so that I can do more with my own characters. And for Jor. I'm here to make sure she sleeps because she never does lol**

**I do not have a set climax or ending for this. (When I thought of this I was like "Okay no I am exhausted, I am not thinking of another climax goodbye"). So this is another aspect of my experimental, risky year. Just to do it. Will it be finished? I don't know. This is just here to post more chapters on, it is not like one of my other multichaps where I do have every little thing planned. Wouldn't even call it a multichap. It's a story. I have eight chapters completely planned and for the next eight weeks I plan to update this. When I run out it'll be summer (and I would have been out of school for a while then) and I'll proceed with summer oneshots.**

**I'm doing Famanda and Wilby in this story. Wanna try out a story with no Charbeck or Jaybeck and Jesslene. See how they are single. So mayyybe I'll stick a little in there at some point. Mayyyybe. This could be in between the time of 6 and 7. DHIs could have happened. Maybe not. They are all still close close friends.**

**And this is special because it's my first long project in first person! And I didn't hate doing it. Some characters will be better than others since I've worked with some longer. And for the last three months it has been everyday doing a Char POV haha. But this'll be something new, with the guys, that I've never done.**

**My goal is to get my pacing down and to get closer to the guys, since I never use them. This'll definitely help me out with action and other POVs. And Mandy/Wills 1pov specifically bc I've never done them in that voice**

**"Warm Shadow" by Fink is a good song for this…it was used in TWD…haha. I need a song for every mc so here you go. Maybe not every chap.**

**It's rated T because of the violence. I don't think I'm gonna use guns. And this story really won't be that bloody or graphic. Just the killing of the Clawers. Same stuff as usual with how I do my romance and all.**

**I'm very excited to do this and I hope you'll take another look next week. I'm writing this so that any fan of KK can read it—you don't have to know about TWD to read this.**

**I'm insane.**


	2. Whiteknuckling

**Disoriented  
Chapter 2**

**Willa POV**

"How are we gonna find food here?"

"There's a lot in the kitchen. No one must have tried to take this house before, since it was so overrun. Left all of it to us."

"We gonna leave any for other arrivals? People who come in here after?"

Finn keeps his head down, elbows on his knees. We sit against the door-wall of the living room. The sisters are over on the other side, but we can't see them where they are, since some furniture is in our way.

He shakes his head. "No one else is coming. We're making a home here."

We would always set something aside in each house after we left, or were drove away, so if another group would use this house, they had at least had a little bit of food. Another way we attempt to keep our humanity. The decision to do this or not isn't one person's to make, since we usually determine things together, but more and more I'm feeling a separation from all of us…and Finn's taking leader, again…it's in him, and that's how he solves inner problems, he takes charge. He's never made a decision that's been injurious on the group.

I have a lot of times where we are all silent so that's what I think about. The make-up of ourselves. And if I've successfully read Finn, I can be sure that he wants this house because it's concealed and safe, but also because he wants to stop moving.

From outside, I can hear the fire that the other three made. It's still dark in here, a window from the other side of the room showing stars. Still warm. We're guessing we're still in Florida, or at least, a place where the Clawers still are. I lean my head against the wall, my eyes toward Finn. He's still looking ahead.

"I think we'll be able to stay here for a while. Shouldn't be a problem." And that's how we use our time that isn't spent clearing houses or sleeping- reassuring . Saying things. The repetition of this promise has been good practice so we say it convincingly each time.

He nods. I sigh, continuing. "You wonder if it's just this section of the world. Of this country. State," I say.

"If it's just us, then there would have been help."

"That's either too risky for the rescuers or it's just the whole world."

"Guess so."

"Yes. Let's stay here." I decide. After realizing that it is the whole world that's hit. "Let's stay here forever because a better place isn't gonna pop up."

"I just wanna keep her safe," he says. "Mandy. And her sister because I think Manda would just die if Jessie got hurt."

I stay silent, nodding.

"But she has to know how to kill. That can't scare her. Because that will kill her."

"She'll grow with it."

"That isn't just something you just do, though," he goes on, not hearing me. "You gotta either learn to somehow understand something with it or you just swallow the pain and not feel anything."

The Finn I'm next to has changed with every year, every ordeal. Thirteen year old Finn was gone when he turned fourteen. That's the thing about him, he's dependent on the situation, and while he keeps his morals he carries out things differently. And speaks differently.

I don't think I changed a lot. I don't really focus on how I change. So maybe I really did. Maybe I got realer. I stopped depending on fate and the-way-things-work-out. Haven't prayed a whole lot.

"And we had something really good. Then this had to come. This had to ruin it." I'm guessing he's talking about him and Mandy…they were really just so in love…then we had to hightail it out of Orlando…and everything's just been so hectic.

That was a symbol, their being together, that things were still livable. And not to say they don't love each other now.

It's just not how it was.

A few moments when we're just staring at the floor.

"Hi." Amanda still seems drowsy, her feet making uneven patterns and blinking her tired eyes. She settles down in front of Finn, keeping her knees to her chest and looping her arms around them.

"Hey," Finn says. Smiling slightly. Trying to remake the feelings that aren't showing themselves this night. Morning. I don't even know what time it is.

"Were you hurt?"

"No. Clawer guts. Didn't think that would help."

Amanda frowns. "Was Jess alright? It was a bloody scene in here…"

"Yeah. Completely."

We wait for a while as Amanda attempts to say something, but ending up with this. "I feel bad that I just shut down. And I know I can't do that—"

"You didn't do anything that slowed us down or caused any more injuries," I say, before Finn can, because I had a feeling he would mess something up. "You have no reason to feel bad. We shouldn't have put you in the room where there were a lot—"

"But if I were anywhere else, they would have attacked me. Alone. I had back up here."

"It's the Clawers fault." Finn states.

"It's not like they can think," she says.

"Are you defending them?" And I know he didn't mean so sound so caustic or hateful but that's a thing you can only say one way.

Amanda looks at him coldly. "No. I'm not. But sometimes people have the blame and I don't wanna be looked at as innocent. Because I'm not. I'm probably the guiltiest one in this group, if you knew what has happened—"

"Mandy, how about I teach you how to use the crossbow?" I interrupt. This is going wrong. Now she's bringing up times before all of this, before any of this, and we're all just so tired that we don't know what happened when. And the icy situation between Finn and her isn't solving anything. And we don't have time to solve that. Because we need to make sure this place is safe before we talk about relationships—

I stop myself. My mind is racing, all within a few seconds…I close my eyes briefly, taking a breath. I talk again. "You can use the crossbow and I'll use the gun. Charlie did say they found some ammo. So you can defend yourself."

"Yeah. It's almost morning anyway. And as soon as there's light we're gonna set up some kind of system for here." Finn adds. Good, nothing that could be taken wrong.

She thinks for a while. "Okay. Is it hard? I don't want you using something you're not comfortable with. I can use the gun—"

"I think you'll be a good shot with the bow," I reassure.

I've become really good at that.

"You sure you're feeling okay?" Finn asks.

It's like the small riff never happened. She looks to him, less stony. "Yeah. I'm fine. But I'm gonna go back to Jess." Without a word Finn and I are left alone again.

**Charlene POV**

"There's something satisfying about knowing they can't hurt us," I say. The large fire sparks. Blazing orange is covering up the grays and the once red scars.

"Yep. Charlie's gone. What happened to good, nice Charlie…" Maybeck says, finishing his water bottle. I was slowly drinking mine. He stands a couple feet away, and Philby on his left.

"Don't lie. You feel it too."

"I like to know that they're dead as much as any sane person, but that's not to say I enjoy this." Philby suggests.

"I didn't say I had fun with it. You guys don't listen. I said it's good knowing that we're safe."

"Sure. I wouldn't cross you."

I've killed the most and without any trepidation. And among this small group of Terry and Phil and Willa (but she's inside), I'm known as the one who does it without thought.

And I do think. I do feel something when I kill the Clawers. But I know they can hurt us, and therefore, I don't spend too much time on it.

In fact, those three and I have kinda formed our own group. Nothing official and we don't make a pronounced separation from Finn and the sisters. But…as the days have gone by we've realized we're like-minded. We all have similar priorities. Finn is focused on Mandy and Jessie, and the sisters are focused on him, and there's a triangle of primacies between the three.

We've noticed that we're better equipped in this world. We don't really have people in particular that we wanna protect…it's just all of us as a whole.

That's how we're able to fight and not get upset.

So there may be a time where we have to take leader.

It's a sick thought, overpowering them, and playing this like it's a game. But we need to keep our heads on us. Can't just float through this problem, hoping it falls into place, becoming strong when you need to. That's how you get killed.

I feel bad that Amanda got so worked up over killing the Clawer. I understand, she's strong in so many other ways, and is definitely the pillar of all of us. Was. When things were normal. She needed to freak out, she needed to let out the tears, so that she could reset. And I know she has the want to help and is probably apologizing to Finn and Willa a hundred times.

The question is, will Finn let her take co-leader again?

This area is thick with trees that look more like black tall columns. Too many for the light of the fire to shine brightly and attract the Clawers.

"Stats, Phil," Maybeck reminds him.

"Right. List 'em." This is how we keep organized—seeing what we have and what we need. We call them Stats for lack of a better word.

I pull my jacket closer to me, despite the heat, needed the softness. "Water supply."

"We're decent. I say two weeks normally. We could stretch it to three. However…it's seeming like we're making a home here."

That word is strange. Never really felt like I had a comfy cozy place of my own. It was usually in the times I was with my friends. It's just tough now, to sit around and hug each other and fall asleep. We could but we insist on anything but that.

"So we'll make a run in a week. Let's just get this house straightened up and fortified. Food." Maybeck says.

"Four weeks. That's normally, eating three times a day. So that means two months in reality."

"Two!" I surprised. Usually it's a couple days. "This house is stocked."

"Good people lived here," Maybeck shakes his head, looking to me. "They could be there in the fire, Charlie."

"They died. We didn't kill them."

"Ammo, weapons, arrows…"

Philby frowns. "Not as much. Found some ammo but we need the weapons that go with the ammo...We need to be able to shoot. If not, sharper, cleaner things. Dare I say it, but something of a sword or blade, long one, get what I mean? That works because then you could reach across and slice the head. Doesn't get stuck in their skulls. But that's difficult to come across, on a run."

"Noise attracts Clawers. Willa and Jess aren't gonna hold a gun. No way," I say. All I am is being honest.

"They will. After tonight? They will. And Willa's crossbow arrows, we got from the other room. So we're good on that. Those stupid spears are just not reliable anymore. We need to know how to shoot, all of us."

"Fine. Let's find the guns first, steal them off some Clawers on our run. Bound to be some. Medical supplies."

"That is what I'm worried about. I mean, I'll look more when it gets like out. Old shirts are always bandages, no meds, some Neosporin-like stuff. I found some transfusion things in the back with the equipment needed. Not going to use it but it's good to know we have it. That's why we gotta shoot. Long distances. They scratch us? Can't clean it."

"We never really talked about this—if someone's leg is gashed or something, do we cut it off?" Maybeck asks.

"…Yeah." I say.

"There's some alcohol in the back that we use for cleaning and for…numbing…if that ever has to happen. Which it won't. Just…we'll get rid of any objects that could be dangerous…and keep the alcohol secret."

"Like Finn or the girls would ever try," I scoff. They're still smart enough.

"Our favorite subject…" Maybeck becomes quieter. "Leader power?"

Philby sighs. "Factor in the constant movement, the sudden settling, the coarseness between the lovebirds, the fact that Jess and Amanda are now not gonna disconnect, ever…No injuries today, we got a house with great necessities but missing combat."

"We're alright right now. We're safe." I say it like I'm sure. "If anything's gonna happen, it's gonna be between us all, and nothing with the Clawers. Maybeck and Willa will do their usual hunting if food goes short—which won't—there's the town nearby…new and not what we're used to, but this is a secluded area. No houses nearby. We won't come across anyone unless we go out and start causing trouble. Which we won't," I make sure that's clear. "We don't make tension."

"Tread lightly," Maybeck reminds.

"Yes. And don't settle in. This home is enticing. I'll pack up some food as soon as we go inside so if the time comes, we can bolt."

"Let's just hope that nothing goes wrong within the house."

The fire is irritating my eyes. I'm done with this conversation, we've figured out what we need to know. "…We can't control some things. But what we can, we are already doing a decent job."

"Sleeping arrangements?" Maybeck smirks.

"Shut up." I answer. "There's a couple bedrooms and they are cleared but they aren't clean. Don't know if there's anything gross or Jess-alerts," (what we've called blood or iffy places that could scare her), "and it's almost morning. We'll crash for a few hours in the living room. I think Finn isn't gonna sleep, he'll watch."

"White-knuckling," Maybeck says. "That's what this all is. When you are holding the wheel so tightly that the blood gets cut off of your hands."

"Sure is."

"I miss driving."

"We better get inside. They're all burnt. Char, you go and check on the four in there, while we put it out."

"Sure."

"Don't tell Willa about the gun thing just yet…" Philby warns.

"Hey, Willa!" I call out, walking to the door, looking back with an open-mouthed grin. Maybeck laughs but Philby just looks tired.

Another night sleeping on the ground.

**jor I knew you like willa w a crossbow ahaha sorryyyy**


	3. Warm Regards

**Omg this week was so busy**

**sooo next week I wont be updating, I need to catch up on some work. the next week im 90% sure ill be back. thank yall.**

**Disoriented**  
**Chapter 3**

**Jess POV**

I had slept a little last night when Mandy was with me, just dozed a bit. I'm just not tired now. Should be, since we spent the whole day doing another sweep through the house for useful things. The surroundings didn't have a whole lot much to offer. Whenever I close my eyes I become so bored that I open them up again, like I'm expecting a change of scenery.

The starry lights that leak in are few. I spread my hair out on my sweatshirt-pillow, attempting to find something different with the ceiling. We aren't going to take the bedrooms. The beds aren't…_okay _to sleep on and it's too far away from the front door, or any usable exit, since the back door leads to a small deck and then a grassy, twig-filled mess. Not good means of escape. The great room is our breathing space. Not too big for seven emotionally dry teens. Day Two.

It's too hot. I'm usually not bothered by the heat, it's Mandy who is, but I'm wishing I had shorts instead of these jeans…we use backpacks and extra shirts as pillows. I don't like sleeping alone. I mean, I would usually just be with Amanda. (It doesn't show when I speak aloud, since I'm famed for my coldness and self-righteousness, but being near someone is the closest I get to happy during all of this crap. Like they are the good of the world, and I'm clinging on, trying to find some place where I can soak up some of the nice.) Because I figure, I'm not gonna find a significant other here. So I'm stuck with a sister to cuddle with. Don't know how that will work out when she falls in love with Finn again.

Everyone's on their own tonight, really. Finn's closest to the door. Willa is across from me. Charlie is near the door to the other room, close to the hallway that I went down to find Finn.

The clearness of my schedule and the absence of many things to do, one would think, would offer me lots of things to think about when I can't sleep. It makes my mind empty. Because the things we do produce thoughts, and interesting things create long-lasting ideas one can spend hours dancing around. There's not much to rationing out the food. Nothing proprietary with grudgingly knowing I have to learn how to shoot now, Philby told me…the only thing that could maybe stimulate me is the expansive thought of what's gonna happen. Of how it all seems to be unwinding. Not in a good way. Weakening. The system is weakening. I love every single person in this room, and it's taken me a while to love them, and these are the only people I give a room in my mind for.

But because we are _people_, not Clawers, I want to get away awhile. I see them too much. (I see the Clawers too much also. However, people can speak.)

But weak little me isn't gonna get far without Mandy's help or their advice. I'm really stuck with all of them.

This is the reason why I don't resolve to think about that, despite the inexcusable need for some reform here and the absence of any other thought about this. This is when I curl up even more and pull my hair back to my shoulders and press my lips together, biting the insides, hiding my eyes in the sweatshirt. Those sizable plunges into futility tug me down once again into that gray place that fancies my company. Where good things are blocked—dissolved. There's no delivery from the sadness until there is delivery. And I feel, wholly and completely, that this is our dying home.

I know for a fact that it's just feelings, not facts. My mind likes to afflict me. Manda has told me time and time again that I control myself, that I can make the sadness go away, that I can chose to push it. But she's wrong. I know it. Everyone's wrong when they think they can control the bad thoughts. If they don't want it, then why would they select that over good things? Happy things? Things I don't seem to have. But I have enough normalcy in my life to pull from, so that it isn't just _constant_ dark depression—

I don't have any normalcy.

A floorboard creaks. From the near hallway. Charlie has to use the bathroom, probably. Then she has to climb through all of us, so maybe I can snag her to come sit with me.

I wait to see her feet walk past me but I don't. Ten more seconds? There's no more movement. None over here. Still slowly and still from the hallway and I know what it is and I bolt up—

When I turn around, Charlie's just seeing it, the thing with barely any skin and hardly a face, and she reaches behind her for our spears: tucked behind a strange, tall metal dresser or nightstand, whatever the thing is. Her stretch and awkward pull on the spears causes the piece to tumble down, the sharp corner scraping her arm—she shrieks loudly and instantly, instinctually, I flinch and shut my eyes_. No one's awake to hear this?_

Then realizing myself and my uselessness. I jump up to help and Philby has angrily kicked the Clawer back to the wall and is punching its face in, barely any teeth left on the thing to threaten the boy but the thing did something to her, the dresser did, because a crying Charlie's slid down on the wall, a trail of spotty-then-dripping red on the light blue wallpaper leading down to something that has the shape of her arm but completely and entirely covered in—

This is when my fear takes control.

Everyone's awake now. _Everyone is awake now and not when they should have been and oh my God I want to be back asleep now_ and Charlene is going from not responding to Willa's strangled questions to just screaming for it to stop and we don't know how to help, and I'm stuck in my spot and I'm breathing too shakily, too shakily for me to continue to, and I want to take my eyes off of the blood but I simply cannot and every second the panicking color stays in my vision another layer of terror is stuck to me, permanently, and I can't rip it off, and and and-

_There it goes_, I know now that this is serious when every inch of me gets fuzzy and then too warm and then on the edge, when every breath hurts, I can't _be_ without my _life_ aching. But I'm not breathing. I can't breathe. I'm not inhaling and everything is becoming weaker and I'm not gonna be able to stand on my legs my stomach declivities and so does my mind and judgement and oh my God I feel a—

Unsteady. I'm unsteady. I have to close my eyes—or can I not see? I feel gasps escape from me and I make it loud each time, so that I know I am, but then I run out of air and I can understand that I have been standing and still am and I feel tears on my face. Someone's hands. Shoulder and one on my stomach, trying to steady me.

But I am in a place where things are just going to get darker. I keep speaking, the words tumbling into each other as the dizziness _tortures_—"Oh my God I can't I can't I'm gonna pass out oh my God I'm gonna I'm gonna I'm—gonna fa—"

"Jess, breathe!" It's Philby.

"She's gonna lose all of her blood! Philby!" Maybeck's upset voice in the background and Charlene's attmepts to make words.

There's no steadying where I am now. Trying to cling onto something. Stay. Do. Not. Let. It. Happen. I whimper pathetically, trying to make this sound as I exhale—"Manda?"

"Manda, she's gonna pass out!" he shouts. Where is Manda. Manda. Is she hurt too. If she is hurt too—

"Oh my God—" and I know her hands, feel her one on the back of my neck and another on my face, cold fingers on my burning cheek- "What happened to Charlie?" she says quickly so I can't hear…I'm about to fall a few times and she keeps me upright. Using that soft, nice voice that comes out when I have my freak-outs and this isn't making any bit of it better. "Sweetheart…Jessie…Breathe, you have to breathe, baby, it's just a little bit—"

"Charlie…" I cry. It's my fault. Everything. I made the Clawers come here and that's why Charlie's gonna bleed out and I killed—

_"What do we do?" _Finn hollers. No one is communicating. No one is talking. And it's so loud.

"Cut it off?"

"It'll get infected!"

"Guys, Charlie is out."

"Jessie, talk to me—"

Everything is bigger and it sounds like a sigh, what comes out of me next, just all of the air left. It just hurts, all of it, all of it is the hurt.

I'm grateful for when the darkness comes but terrified when I realize there is no breathing here.

**Amanda POV**

I wasn't ready for Jess to fall into me, but I caught her, one hand on her upper back and one on her lower.

I need to take care of her now.

"Get Charlie down flat!" Philby exclaims, and Willa helps him get the girl on her back. "Don't move her head. Try to see if she answers you, Willa."

My tears come no matter how hard I try to choke them. Willa asks Charlie, not managing to keep her voice steady, if she can hear her. "No response. At all."

Holding Jess carefully, I ease myself down, positioning her so that she's sitting on my lap and her legs are around my waist. Gentling placing her head on my shoulder, I smooth back her hair, steadying my emotion. I can't get upset like this. Then that's it. I don't think Finn would ever kick one of us out of the group but if he sees me shut down again that's it, it's through, and Jess and I will be simply be two girls that sit around and who eat the rations—no communication or helping because soon I'll go insane if we don't take a part in saving all our lives, _I cannot sit anymore_—

"Jessie…" I hold her close to me. She doesn't usually faint when she sees blood. She gets dizzy, and can't watch, and becomes upset. But that's it. And when she has ever passed out, from heat, it's a few seconds. This is two minutes. She got herself so worked up, not breathing and all, she'll be unconscious for a while—

That's when I get angry. When I'm afraid to get worried over my sister not feeling well. I shouldn't be afraid. I shouldn't be hiding my emotion. She's not okay, and the stress is probably the reason why tonight was worse than others—she's on edge from all that's happened and this isn't a safe environment and our leader is not making it a safe environment and he's accomplishing nothing.

Charlene could die.

"Guys, listen!" Finn says. I look up to see him standing in between the four and me, hands bloody and his eyes irritated, tired, done with this. He'd rather be sleeping than fixing this problem. He isn't willing to smooth this over. I hate Finn. I hate what he's doing.

I keep my hand over my mouth, disgusted at my thoughts, refusing anymore. But my mind is chained in the middle of a sea of contempt, all of the surroundings, I just _hate_—

Finn continues, warily choosing his words. "We don't need anyone else to pass out on us. Just get out of our way if you can't stay here…Willa, are you good?"

"Yes!" She softly brushes Charlie's hair out of her face, but not moving her head—the hurt girl looks halfway to gone. "Come on, Finn!"

"Manda, go." He says. Shaking his head, eyes gray. "Go."

In silence I stare, startled, repelled. I'm not budging. I'm not getting out of here.

My stubborn self was not made for a world like this, where I'm fighting for my say the way I say it, until I can't fight at all, and my want to do _anything_ but what he demands fires up. I let it take control of my decision. _Defy everything he says._ Things can't get any more screwed up than they are now.

With a glare of defiance I stand up, propping Jess's legs around my waist again, holding my hand to her head. I shake my head.

I walk toward the kneeling group around Charlie. And I don't look at Finn again.

Maybe Jess is awake or she's just in between. She's somehow holding her legs up and together around me, and I hear whimpers near my ear. I whisper to her softly, kindly, as soothing as I can, inside the slow silence over that's taken over the rest of them, that she can go to sleep now and that she's alright and that it is all okay.

There used to be things that proved that things would work out. People, bonds, moments…it's gone. From this minute on the only thing saying that it's alright is my voice. And soon we won't be able to speak.

Finn doesn't take any time to simmer. He comes over—"Philby, can she keep her arm? Is it gonna get infected?"

"Hypovolemic shock. She lost a lot of blood and I couldn't tell you the numbers of how much so that I can say for sure that that is the thing, since the symptoms show it, but I need to see where the cut is. And we _need to know now_." The urgency weighs my mind down, everything is heavier and impossible, I don't know how I can contribute—"Willa, go get some shirts to bandage her and Maybeck, get the bottles in the back, if we end up having to clean it, we'll have to do it while she's out because she'll be a wreck if she wakes up."

"Bottles? There's alcohol in the back?" Finn's confusion and unawareness of this fact adds more pressure and creates another problem.

"Willa, what was the last pulse?" Philby ignores Finn and calls over to Willa who grabs the supplies by the door.

"Weak. Too weak. I think we need to get her awake so that we know she isn't under. Way under."

"She could slip into a coma? And she's on that edge forever?" Maybeck asks, coming back in with a box, and like me, miserably unaware of the actual medical things that are happening right now for her and the possibilities.

"It's better than her dead." Philby determines. The way he says it makes it final.

And immediately I determine—she's dead weight. We can't have a comatose person in our group. Can't keep her safe like this. Someone will have to be with her the whole time and then the alive people will start get hurt because of a person who can't even move her eyes—

_Oh my God. Amanda. She's your family. You're determining the value of your family._

No one can be close to each other anymore.

"Willa, if she wakes up, that's a bigger problem. Then she'll freak out, because it still hurts for her now, and then there's the possibility of her passing out again and that's it, she's in it deeper. Harder for her to come out of it."

"We're on thin ice. We need to stay where we are. Clean it, then." Willa presses the bandages to the arm.

This whole conversation, Finn and I were trapped in silence, and the three of them determined what's gonna happen. They have the game in their hands.

Finn's position is gone. He's nothing now. Some other power that isn't mine or his is now…becoming leader…and we aren't in a good time now to argue it.

"Mandy, I think you should get Jess lying down," Philby suggests.

There's nothing here for me now. I shouldn't have put Jess in this uncomfortable position anyway, ever, and it's because of me, Finn's now separated from the two of us, and certainly not in warm regards with the other three…my obstinacy and persistence…it's gonna get me through a battle and not through a bloody arm.

I back away, not turning my face to any direction that may have Finn. I don't know where to look. Everywhere has Finn. Everywhere is messed up.

So I let a few silent tears fall. I sit in an unvisited corner of the room, Jess's head on my lap, brushing through her hair. Floundering in discouragement. Apologizing to myself that I am the way I am.

There seems to be no way to fix that.

**I promise next chap is maybeck pov**

**I actually did research. Wow. Mandy does stuff beside sit and eat those chips from the Chinese food place and drink iced tea (me now). Cause halfway thru I realized I didn't know if this was physically possible so I found myself googling "what is your pulse when you are unconscious". Well I have the article link about blood loss and stuff since I like to cred my sources. and it wont post stupid link blahhh it was on a website called healthline.**

**im tellin ya guys this story is gonna be cray and I extended it a few chaps**

**there soon will be daylight too also (no not the terrible oneshot)**

**are they hanging all over each other too much?**

**see you in two weeks.**


	4. Aging

**YALL HI**

**its getting tough to find music to listen to as im writing this…I need songs that are a combo of "everybody wants to rule the world" by lorde, "civilian" by wye oak, "dust bowl dance" by mumford and sons, "disarm" by the civil wars, "lead me home" by jamie n commons, and "warm shadow" by fink…edgy and kinda heavy…help would be greatly appreciated yo**

**a reminder still that this story always has the possibility of random hiatuses and all without notice but im never abandoning this unless I say. so yeah. weekends have been insane.**

**Disoriented**  
**Chapter 4: Aging**

**Maybeck POV**

"My shot should be getting better. Not worse."

"We're all a little shaky." I look back to see Willa leaning forward, squinting, searching for where the arrow landed. It was somewhere between those two trees about five miles away. I was going for that bush in the middle, and I would have seen it ruffle if it landed. The arrow seemed to disappear when I shot it.

Willa has a better eye than me. She stands up from her sitting position on the splintered wooden box. "But that was pretty bad."

"Great." I hand the crossbow to her. "No food."

"We got tons inside. What's the sudden urge to hunt?" Willa inspects the weapon, looking for anything that may be wrong with it.

"I feel like I'm not doing anything. I need to be always moving. You, you can be patient. You can sit and think."

"I thought you were patient. It's an artist's thing."

"That's when life isn't in danger." I reach near my leg to grab my water bottle. At least resources aren't scarce. We're better off than I would imagine others would be. Well…in some respects. But the yellow light and the clear day and the absence of crushing heat isn't making me feel positive. Unlike easily swayed people like Willa.

"Life's always kinda in danger. In real life you still can die in a moment. But here, the threat is just more visible. You can see the killing thing."

She says that all without flinching. She carefully sets the crossbow down in front of her, studying the short trees. Willa is hardened just like _that._ She speaks truth, and that wasn't something I have ever considered. But to think that life then was the same as now?

"If life is always in the same level of danger, of riskiness, then what makes us live like this at this moment? Why aren't we lazily spending Fridays on Twitter and complaining about finals and going through our fridges?" The use of this debating is to keep us thinking new things. Back when there were no Clawers, I was in the time when I was realizing ideas, understanding, absorbing events better. That was halted when the group took off. Now I want that recovery of awareness. I find it a lot with Willa. It's easy because I can say something completely wrong and she knows what I mean.

"There's a lot of separated things that people don't consider different—there's conditions of life, and _then_ there's way of living. It's all about sight."

"If you say so." It makes some kind of sense, for people minded like Wills and me. The organization of things. The difference between situations. Where you act one way but not in another.

"I've been trying to stay alive so much that I forgot my social life and all. No dating plans. Unless those Clawers get a makeover."

Willa laughs out loud. "I'm afraid to fall. It'll take too much time up. To hold someone higher than I already do, because I do care about all you guys. I want to have it normal…I…" She struggles. Then kicks a rock at her foot. Quietly. "There's no time," she asserts. Uncertainly.

"I get you." I understand. One hundred percent.

She sees something scurrying near my former target and swiftly scoops up the crossbow, and aims. Shoots. The moving creature halts.

"We don't need extra food," I tease.

She smirks. This new look of hers. "Sure thing."

"It's probably a rabbit, you know. Ew. I won't eat that. I stepped on a rabbit once—it was a little one, and it was squeaking so loud. I felt terrible. I was, like, six—"

"Hey guys?" Philby's voice. We spin around. He stands in the doorway, leaning on the side. That was the reason I left, went through that doorway, and decided to take in this nice late morning—getting away. Now sights are shifting back. The look of the entryway into that house bothers me, disquiets me. And I don't feel well. It's a complete mess in there, all around.

Philby looks relieved, almost, unless I'm making that up, but to be out here and not in that…gray room, it's nicer. Freer. He can talk to us. The two of us…

Willa becomes older. Locked up. Eyes losing their light, shoulders lowering. Transitions are so evident when it comes to her. And that guy in the doorway, she thinks about him and cares about him and he does too. It's obvious. They're both just too smart to love each other.

"I don't wanna go back in," I whisper. I don't know if Wills heard me but I sense a small nod from her direction. She knows. She understands.

But I have to be present. Can't shut down. For Charlie.

"Is she alright?" Willa asks. Her concerned tone coming back to visit.

"She's gonna be fine. She's just more broken up than physically hurting…or at least what she's letting on. That's gotta hurt terribly. She just doesn't wanna stop us or hold us up. Worried sick about Jess, she didn't wanna scare her…"

"She was talking to you?" I inquire. So she's better than what we thought. That's good. Because she looked pretty awful last night—was it even five hours ago?—and in that moment I was sure Charlie's not gonna be the way she was.

But this doesn't fix the communication problems within the group.

"Yeah, just a little bit. She's sleeping now."

"I'm just not worried we're not taking care of it alright. That's all. Watch something we do mess it up a bit more—" Willa hugs herself, biting her bottom lip. She's not afraid of facing a Clawer and stomping its head but terrified of her actions doing harm, with a person that's already in a dicey situation…

"And that's what I meant to bring up…" He sighs. "Remember the equipment I found when I looked in the back? …I need to do a blood transfusion."

Silence.

He continues, terminating the nervous pause. "We have the same blood type. We had a conversation a few weeks ago. I wanted to know everyone's type but I never got to it and I only asked Charlie. She has no allergies. She needs the blood, though. Couldn't get half her words out without her eyes closed and her breathing loud. I know how to do it correctly, my dad showed me."

"Philby, you are one hundred percent sure that you guys are compatible?" Willa doesn't sound so supportive of this.

"I would never do something this risky if I didn't know that it was completely fine—"

I speak up. "I thought you said it wasn't risky."

What are the odds that he came to her first and figured out her blood type, only hers, and then we had to have an incident with that particular person? It's almost a sign to say that we should go through with this. I'm not a person who believes in signs. But the way things worked out…it's a sick world if there's real-life foreshadowing.

I can't argue. I shouldn't argue. We don't need any more tension within the group, especially with the guy who may be taking Leader…his knowledge trumps us all. It rules over Willa's problem-solving and level-headedness. I don't even want to think about how we have to go to Finn now and talk about this. I don't even want to think about the divisions brought upon by this episode—

"We have to." He says simply. Philby doesn't want to get into an argument. Forgets that I'm really questioning this right now. On some level I respect the guy for not satisfying the firebrand in me, but I feel helpless and useless. My suggestions were just words that were said, nothing meaning anything. I can't control it now…

I don't really know what I was suggesting. You just can't be sure of anything anymore.

"Fine. Go tell Finn." Willa shrugs. I don't know what's happened to us. She's so different.

"You guys should come in," he says. Then turns back around.

**next chap there should be several povs. Ive just been struggling with the flow of this but ive been working and rearranging a lot.**

**this is helping me love willaaa**

**A SHOUTOUT: To a lovely new account, AllieDisneyGirl! She's a dear friend of mine and such a sweet heart. Allie is extremely talented, so I'm excited to see all that she brings to this website. =DD**


	5. Switch

**possibility of there being a hiatus next week-camping today, and next week is last school week so lots of things.**

**this was bleh**

**Disoriented**  
**Chapter 5: Switch**

**Jess POV**

"Oh, God…"

"Jess, I don't know why you're in here. I'm not trying to be cruel or derisive or whatever you guys call me as of recent…but it's stupid to be watching a blood transfusion being that the sight of blood is your biggest fear."

I look out the window, my eyes away from Charlie's table and Philby who sits close next to the girl. I had peeked a bit—just the slightest look—but the bright red appeared in my eyes and sent a shock to my system. I kept my footing, didn't feel dizzy, but I was frightened, just the slightest, before I realized that Charlie was okay. And that this had to be done.

"It's not like I'm looking at it…"

"It's making you nervous and this isn't facing your fear—this is flooding, and it'll only make it worse."

"I. Am. Fine. Completely. Your being cranky will make it go slower."

"Sure. If that's how you want to think." After talking with Philby, we found that I have the same blood type as Charlie too. A blood transfusion, though, is one thing I'm not gonna do, ever, no matter how much I care about Char. So Philby poked her with the thingy. It's better that he's doing it, since he knows all of the medical stuff, and I refer to the IV as _the thingy._

Lying down on the table, in one of Amanda's shirts (because all of her own got bled through), Charlie's not asleep but she's not awake either…I think she's just floating. Her color is back and not as terrible-looking as that night. The bad arm is bandaged but could use a new one—we're low on medical supplies, and I'm the only one who's probably bothered by that. I won't say anything. She'll make a small whimper every now and then, which makes my heart hurt. I feel guilty.

I'm really dumb and weak with how I reacted…it's just that in the moment I was really, really scared, and I was trying to regain control of myself but I couldn't. I've been trying to convince myself that it wasn't my fault. It was the Clawers who did it. (I have a hard time blaming them. I'm not sympathizing with those things and I would kill one without a second thought. The Clawer came for her and I just didn't get to her quick it's not like they can think.) I didn't do anything wrong.

Except widen the division between Finn and Amanda, and now between Finn and the rest of the group.

He's just been doing his own thing, minding himself, rationing the food, making sweeps through the house, and the area, doing tasks to make himself busy and to strengthen our home. Things that can reassure us at a glance that we're pretty strong here. How it looks, anyway.

I've been feeling tired easier and a bit achey. Some headaches. I'm sure it's just the sudden outburst of stress. Right now I could crash but it's too early into the evening, then I wouldn't sleep at all tonight.

Outside the window, a few miles away, a Clawer is ambling around on stumpy legs and with a drunk-like step. The blood seems less gruesome at the moment so I glance at the tube that goes between Charlie's good arm and Philby's arm.

"No. I'm fine. I'm getting stronger—better. I haven't stepped away once. And I'm not scared. This is good." Talking to myself. But Philby hears it and nods. I'm stubborn—a quality Charlie and I share. "How long is it gonna take?" I ask.

"With how it's going, I say another hour."

"Well. That's long."

"It's what we gotta do. We gotta stay afloat. Willa's used that saying sometimes, whenever it was the end of the school year, and the amount of work peaked, and she'd say, _I'm staying afloat_. Making do. Getting by. Doing what she had to do to keep ahead."

"Maybe by the time we get out of this whole mess, we won't have to go to school. I mean, I'm pretty sure my birthday has passed during these last couple of weeks. It's the middle May now, so yeah, I'm eighteen now."

He stays silent, as if the mention of normal life is jarring, strange, as if there's anything other than squatting in a house to get away from the threat.

I'm used to it.

"I'd take finals over this," he finally laughs.

"Maybe the talking is making it slower. Shut up now."

"I just can't make you happy, Lockhart." He shrugs.

"Love you too."

I walk over to Charlie, using my thumb to smooth her hair back. I grin slightly. No one's going to die, my friend will be alright…that's a great thing to know. It's a right-now thing. I can't say that every moment of my life.

"She was real worried about you," Philby mentions.

"I told you to shut up."

"If you have to be stuck in a house in humid, muggy Florida, make it a house full of people you care about."

"Sure. Sure." It's a very Charlene thing. Making sure her family's alright before she even thinks to worry about herself. The only reason she wasn't asking us what was the problem after she got her arm injured was that she was literally comatose, and unwillingly. It makes me feel even worse that I just allowed myself to get upset. I envy her ability to be like that.

"She'll need a sling," he remarks.

"I'll be the creative person in this group and I'll find a way to make one."

"That'll be good. We just don't wanna run into any problems so that she'll have to use a weapon…Charlene was our best spear user…"

"First, we aren't going to run into any problems…this is our home, right? And _was_ isn't a correct term, it's _is_, because very soon she'll be back on her feet."

Shakes his head. "Sure thing."

I pull away from Charlie and turn around to cough quite loudly. I take her hand now. "Throat scratchy."

"That does not sound good."

"I don't like the sound of you." All my comebacks are cold. Amanda used to say I needed to change my attitude, but she does the same thing. Lately, though, Amanda hasn't said much to me but just questions about how I'm feeling. And hugs. Lots of hugs. I'm not complaining.

My thumb rubs her hand now. Like that's making her feel any better. Philby looks up at me. "You better go rest, or at least get out of here."

My eyes are locked on the IV. I don't breathe, so that I don't start getting loud or hyperventilating. Inside I'm uneasy and still exhausted, but I don't let it take over me, I don't let the fear take control of me. I'm holding Char's hand the whole time.

"Jessie."

"Fine. Don't be too long." I spin around and out of the room—still trying to calm my inner disorder, but for the first time not escaping out of fear.

**Willa POV**

It's a bit too sunny in this spot. Strange, because the rest of the house is dark. (I haven't really explored the home. I just know this room really well.)

Sitting next to the window, and my knees up to my chest, I finger my phone. It's dead. Been dead since that night we took off. I'm playing with the case, a scratched picture of Ariel. I rub off the rest of the picture…it's a bit too creepy with her eyes missing.

I turn my eyes to Amanda who's standing against the other wall, eating from a cereal box. "Remember how we all watched Little Mermaid? When all of the girls would go to Char's house every Saturday and we would watch a movie. Somehow we watched that more than any other show."

She looks confused. Then remembers. She grins slightly. "We were really young then. How old—fourteen? Fifteen?"

"Fourteen."

"Man. Who woulda known."

"No one," I get quieter, returning to my device.

After a few minutes Amanda heads outside, passing by me and patting a hand on my shoulder. Now I try to brush my hair to one side with my fingers…it's too tangly. That doesn't work. I could use a hat. I miss my beanie and newsboy caps.

"Newsies," I say aloud. Laughing. That's another movie we would watch a lot, and Amanda would loudly point out every time a new cute boy came onto the screen, and Jess would joke about Finn, and I would join in sometimes with the naming, but then the _How about Philbys_ would fly.

It was funny and uneasy and just fluttery back then, when something like that would happen.

So suddenly I'm not laughing anymore.

And I press my lips together and I'm so stupid because I'm getting teary and why? I don't know. My honest answer is that it isn't young and trivial anymore, I hurt, it hurts when I'm alone at night and it's just all gray and just now I'm just taken aback for the first time during this whole ordeal. This situation…I…right now my mood is tumbling downward and out loud I'm moving my mouth to tell myself to stop but I can't. I've been lowered a few steps, I'm not riding in this safe place in my mind anymore, this has become real.

My answer during this state, position, this…this location and time, my answer is that I'm too weak.

(But time is passing and I'm getting older and _I have gotten so much older within the past couple of weeks_, so why. Am. I. Breaking.)

I squeeze my eyes shut and slow my breathing. Don't break now. You've been doing so good Willa and right now everything is okay so why are you freaking out. You're not freaking out. You're not, you're sitting and nothing is happening.

I watch the trees outside for a while. I can't take in the nice evening. Not in a place like this.

My eyes have dried by the time I hear Philby coming back in, after I try to doze off for a bit. There's a light switch that I have in me, so real I can almost touch it. It unconsciously flips. Back to staidness.

I look back, trying to keep my bearing that I've managed to get a hold of. His eyes are unfocused, tired.

I've been trained within a matter of days to spot a Clawer with a quick sight, and I flinch the slightest when I see his lagging step.

Then chastising myself. It's the transfusion, he's just given a lot of blood. I shut off the inner turmoil and swing my legs over my little seat. Stand up.

"Hi."

"Hi, Willa," he says, coming over to hug me. I'm much smaller than him. I feel the bandage on his upper arm, though, near my shoulder.

"Hair nice," he gets out. "On that one side."

I laugh. "You're cute when you're tired," I say quietly.

Finally breaking away from the hug. "Huh?"

I'm not gonna repeat it. "You look like you're gonna fall over. Get some water or something and rest a bit."

"Nah, I'm fine." He shrugs and walks toward the door. He says something about seeing what's outside but I can't hear it all.

"Nooo you're not." _If we have another incident of someone passing out..._ "Dell. You need to drink something."

"I am _fine_, Willa." And he says it firmly, not looking at me again, out the door with a risky step. I shake my head.

There's the Philby I know.

_Why do I even take time to care about him if all he does is…that…_

Getting back up onto the window seat, I try to fall asleep. My hand finds my heart somehow. It's beating too quickly and I need to slow it down but the gesture is comforting, somehow, it's helping me calm down and all I can imagine is someone else's having my heart, and stop _stop what is the matter with me—_

I fall asleep before I can let that thought hassle me again.

**man, feel the jhilby**  
**  
****I did research on blood transfusions so I hope this is accurate. Ive watched a lot of tv scenes**

**bleh**


	6. Where the Forest Begins

**ALSO, MY SISTER eyes-front-soldier HAS FINALLY PUBLISHED SOMETHING, A KK SYOC. PLEASE CHECK IT OUT. SHES ON MY FAVORITE AUTHORS LIST. She'll do a great job with your characters :D**

**This weekend last year I would have been publishing firebrand and writing daylight how omg**

**and this ch is so so deep holy crap. I had to dig down for a lot of this and it made me very sad the whole weekend haha**

**SO the next two weeks im publishing oneshots bc a) I need to do some oneshots this summer, bc if I don't it wont be summer and b) this is good place to leave you for two weeks. I hope I don't lose the mood, it good soooo good this ch. I mean if I continue this itll prolly take me thru the whole summer.**

**char povvv. I missed my bae I never should have hurt her lol =))**

**I need to show the guys more. The only reason im highlighting the gals in this is bc im good at writing them and this ch went really really well so I don't want to make it bad by bringing in my awful philby and/or maybeck skills…note to self this summer: do some guy centrics**

**I need to credit mumford and son's "I gave you all" for this chapter because it just made it sooo good. The live version is awesome too.**

**I tried to finish my walking dead graphics but they were giving me nightmares and making me upset so haha that's off my list of things to read.**

**sometimes they call jess jj bc it cute. AAAAND I said a little headcanon thingy in here hehehe =+))**

**I imagine the house in this as the grove from that awful episode.**

**Disoriented**  
**Chapter 6: Where the Forest Begins**

**Charlie POV**

We're just quiet now.

It's almost as if Mandy's in our group. (I call this company the Inner.) I can't say if that's just one of those leads that I create to keep me occupied, or if it's a real transition that has been in development. After all, this is only the third real day that I'm out and about and wake. She's got a mind like mine and Maybeck's—but the way she makes decisions and how she acts isn't the same as us.

Days ago after saying she'd learn how to use a crossbow, we're finally making an effort to go outside and do it. But Mandy's quieter than usual, and Willa isn't the loudest one, and here is the thing about our group of seven, not just the Inner Group: there's more girls than guys, so when we're subdued, the boys are too. When Willa's gray, Philby's considerably unobtrusive. I sit close to the door, my legs straight ahead, and my head leaning back against the wall and to my left. Philby's standing on a small box a few feet away from me, to get a good view of the shot. A bit farther in front, Maybeck's standing with his arms crossed. Willa's watching. There were some boxes we set where the forest begins, and Mandy's getting every target.

She holds the bow surely, and all the while fearfully, knowing the influence in her hands. She's shutting up something. Despite her consent to learning this, and her surprisingly good skill, Amanda seems like she's out here because she has to. Forgetting what she really wants, becoming an errand runner, a fulfiller, the role all of us also have to play, because desires are time-wasters…so I don't really know what fuel we are all running on now.

Sometimes a Clawer will walk in between the trees, miles away, heading east if I'm considering myself south, without seeing us. Amanda will suck in a breath and hide a cry and will try to stand still but she starts shifting her weight on her feet, slightly shaking her head. "You're fine, hun," Willa will tell her, nodding. Teaching. Letting her know.

"It's far away. It's not gonna get you, Mand." Maybeck reassures. Amanda's interior anxiety will dwindle, ostensibly. And silently, all spectators encourage her to shoot it. She won't agree. She'll find herself again, let the Clawer pass by, and continue target practice. We won't mention it again.

They don't get any closer than that, Willa doesn't hug Manda if she becomes jittery, because that's their attempt at dissuading her away from escape or shutdown in the face of a Clawer. I recognize their efforts. And I'm not seeing any improvement.

I don't speak up. I don't know what I would say. For Amanda, it's probably not a matter of just sucking it up and dealing with it. Just ignoring the fear. Not that easy.

That's how I would deal with it, though.

She can't be scared of them. It's an unconscious reaction, her sudden close-off and you wouldn't ever think she would be _this_ anxious around Clawers. Maybe Willa would. Maybe Jess. Not Mandy. Not with what she's been through before.

Times like these I feel safe-guarded and protected and surrounded by the last people on earth it seems, and so conveniently, these people I fear for and care about. Also, admittingly aware of the nonexistence of fences or restrictions of where the Clawers step or any danger, really, _anything could freaking happen _and therefore, I'm not safe, I never was, now my arm's throbbing.

I don't welcome these thoughts. I've never thought or laid out the possibilities or come to conclusions like this before. Usually things are cold and one-sided, I'm cold and one-sided, my decisions are logical and action-based. The biggest struggle, currently in Our Home, the derelict building that we're strained to think is ours, seems the regaining of our minds.

One of our green shirts is what Jess cut up and made to fit my arm. The sharp pain that came when the injury first happened hasn't returned in hours. Just an annoying pulsation. The inconvenience of being off my feet for a couple days, not using any weapons, my normal patterns being thrown out the window, frustrates me. Because something's gonna strike. I'll be one-armed.

"It's been a week and we're still secure on food supply. So hunting isn't necessary quite yet." Philby mentions, masking this uncomfortable air.

"Good, because we never were really good at that anyway." Maybeck says.

I laugh. "Hey guys, we haven't done Stats in a few days,"

He hesitates. "…Things are kind of in the same condition as they were when we last determined." Philby says simply. "Meaning, we still need medical stuff. We got…" he shakes his head, in still-present disbelief, "_so_ so lucky with your arm, Char."

"Extremely," Willa adds. They're able to talk so bluntly and say things like they are. It's just honesty here.

"We can make sure the house has no entryways for Clawers, of course, that's one precaution we're capable of," Philby says. "But outside injuries aren't expected and prepared for. We have no resources to pull from. I mean, we're aware of a possible town in the vicinity. But that isn't promising."

It could be the directness or the topic of this conversation that's making Amanda uneasy and clearly upset, because we shut up real quick.

"We've been staying alive so far," I say softly, attempting reassurance. I'm often able to cast out thoughts of death from my mind, on command, because that's the one image that paralyzes me—thinking of these innocent people sinking to the ground or losing light immediately as the Clawer's hands are still in their neck or just not having any more things to think and therefore giving into that depression that takes everything from you so that the act of being in your body is the only sure thing of the world—

It's not working today.

And that makes me think of Jess. Because she often that last thing happens to her and I would never want to wish that on anyone. Haven't seen her in two days, we hung out a lot that first day I woke up. I guess it's just been that we haven't crossed paths. I ask Manda. "Where's JJ?"

"Inside."

I knew that. But I won't push any farther. I stick my head out, off the wall. "I'm gonna need a new sling, maybe double this one up. I think my arm will be stuck in this position forever, folded like this. That'll be real great."

Willa laughs quietly, and Maybeck cracks a smile. "And is that your dominant arm?" He asks.

"No. But imagine if it was. And it'd be awful, because I can't anything with my non-dominant hand. I'd make Willa do everything for me. Watch out, Wills."

"Thought you said it wasn't your dominant hand," she says.

"Still," I joke. "Willa couldn't say no, she's too nice."

"Willa would find a way to get you a new arm," Maybeck says, and I laugh. Willa smirks.

"Sure," she looks back at me. I stick out my tongue. And abrupt silence from the front.

Amanda's eyes are on the red-drenched, long-haired Clawer that staggers, closer than the others, and its small eyes find us. Silence. This one seems more alive than the others. Just died. Just returned. And Amanda's not calm.

I hear the door screech open, and the face I've seen the least of ever since that night. Finn leans on the side, his eyes curious, apologetic, wanting—all emotions, a different emotion for each of us—but he searches for Amanda's gaze and she gives it to him, slowly lowering her crossbow, keeping watery eyes on him.

I can literally see her heart reaching out but not finding anything to grip and she's reaching, still reaching, she's been reaching for weeks and I don't think that heart could go any farther, not a normal, working one anyway...

Decisively Amanda raises her crossbow, finding the Clawer turning to approach—a girl, yound adult, the color of her hair or skin unsure. Right now it's Blood.

The bite on her shoulder still is exuding fluid. Amanda's already started the shooting process before the details of the Clawer reaches her, the arrow in the Blood Girl's heart pushes the thing back off her feet.

I could count all of Manda's kills on one hand. Here's another.

Improvement. "Good, Mandy," Maybeck smiles and nods, and Amanda bites her bottom lip, it's not good to her.

I'm angry.

_Why did it have to be a young one?_

That only made it worse. "That's fantastic, Amanda." Willa sees her distress and reaches out to hug her but pulls back, retreats, knows she shouldn't, but the upset girl in front of us needs more than our comfort.

"Do we have to retrieve the arrow?" Is what Amanda first asks, her face red, sniffling.

"I'll do it, don't worry," Maybeck says, stepping forward, but another Clawer follows the path of the red-faced girl, elongated, unbalanced, crisscrossed steps, and Amanda shakes her head, breathing laboriously and _now _this is when everyone else decides to try to near her, instead of before, when she needed it.

Amanda drops the crossbow, pausing her shaking, turning roughly, locking eyes with Finn and he nods slightly, listening. Open. For the first time in days.

She's broken. No repair. I'm fearing her next words.

"Jess is sick," she says, her voice overtaken by tears and we all darken in response, in unison, this isn't good, _this is not good and_ I find myself moving my left arm out of its sling and I cry out, it's hurting, but it doesn't hurt as much as this new presence of danger.

Because that's what it is, this is unsafe.

Risk.

I'm not used to these constant blows with nothing to label as a constant, to say, _Okay, this for sure is always here_, but you _just can't do that now_ and I'm so confused. Am I forgetting something. Am I just being thick-headed and not finding the solution? Truth is that there happens to be none, that's the only conclusion, because I look for conclusions quickly and that's what I can determine now. We have no time to decide how to get Jess better and we just don't have time.

Maybeck picks up the crossbow and gets the approaching Clawer. Finn seems hopeless, his look telling me _I don't know how to fix this._

I lay my head back on the wall, closing my eyes, this daily lightheadedness not being a product of my injury or the heat but how we ignored the rapidly disintegrating structure, so now here's the fated conclusion.

"Last night she felt awful, crying all night, and everything's hurting on her, she's a mess and she's burning up and nothing was making her feel better and—and and—" Amanda tries to explain and her cries peak and reach me finally, I grasp them. "It's 'cause she got so stressed out that one night! She wasn't taking care of herself. Can't even get up, we have no medicine, she's forgetting things—"

"And yet you're out here instead," I say, my eyelids flipping open and fire in my expression, the words flooded with hate and Amanda inhales sharply and what I said did not fix anything.

Amanda flies to Finn. They escape inside. And it's like old times.

I slump down again, exhaling, and I don't answer when Willa and Maybeck ask if I'm alright or Philby repeats, unsure, such a weird feeling to hear on him, out-loud questioning if he should check on Jess or if Mandy would get mad, and I'm shaking my head in defeat, a sign, _I'm breaking now._

There's nothing I can do about it.

_It had to happen to us._ This time there isn't a hopeful solution. Willa holds back her crying. Or maybe she has none left. The absence of tears is proof that she's ruined.

"We're not going to make it. We're going to die before the Clawers even get their hands on us."

**Finn POV**

And she escapes to me, as I swing an arm around her shoulder, guiding her into the main room. Away from that horrible outside. But this room isn't that great either, these walls seem to be made and built with mistakes and injuries and things that draw us apart, which is what's ruining us, and not just the seven, but her and me…

I want out. Crying into my shoulder, Amanda holds me as if I'm leaving. I'm not. Never. I'm not going. I want to repair all of her broken pieces but I don't know how to and I don't think I can, so I'll just stay here.

"I just need you a lot, Finn," she cries, and I keep my hand on the back of her head, and I'm telling her that she has me and that she can have all of me and that _I just need you a lot too._

Things were supposed to be mended together again, supposed to magically twist into solution, when she and I got back together. Because that was where the problems began, it seemed like, when we became separated. But that just may be the way I saw it. I didn't feel hopeless until she looked toward me coldly on the night we got this home. The Clawers didn't faze me. Getting hurt wouldn't affect me. But she disappeared from those hours that are usually spent with us together, and instead it was me alone, and there was an empty space where I was supposed to be holding her.

Even now, when she's completely mine and I'm completely hers, I don't see any clarification or key. This embrace feels complex and problematic.

She calms down, enough to not be making noise, and she lays the side of her head on my chest. I feel her blinking. She's looking out the direction of outside. She wants a redo. But I don't think today was destined to go any better. Amanda will work and try and hurt until everything's fixed, unlike me, who shuts off, in this ordeal, and once again I'm guilt-ridden and sorry and so so sorry for making her feel like this.

"I don't know if I should go check on Jess or not," she says, her voice sad and fading and dark. I hear that voice a lot but this is the first time in a while. We have a habit, the two of us, of getting into problems that appear solution-less.

"What room is she in?"

"That blue one. Down that hallway."

"Okay. Stay with me for a little while, though."

Soon she hides her face completely.

I'm smoothing her hair back. I spot the door in the kitchen. Allowing myself to be selfish for a bit. "Mand…I don't wanna be here."

"Me neither," she answers, tearless.

Arm around her shoulder again, I lead her, and we go through the kitchen and out that back door, to the small, old deck I found the first night we came here. I kept quiet about it. Maybe someone else has seen it, but we've never talked about it together as a group. I wanted to show her it. But I never could.

There's grass for thirty feet before the forest starts, much like the front of the house, but this area is overgrown and unkempt. Plants climb up the wall of the back. It looks like our story since the beginning of the Clawers…elaborate and complicated and somehow still staying alive. It's sunny here, through the leaves and branches.

And she disconnects from me, holding my hand, looking out, something like quietness on her face. Open. Swallowing acceptance of how it is, because I think everyone today got a shock to their system and an understanding of the permanent affects.

These Clawers won't stop.

Something is snapped—call it silence, or dishonesty, but I feel it breaking before we start to speak. "It's a horrible way to die," Amanda says. "In a world like this." I glance at her; her glassy eyes look right through the trees. "The world before this wasn't perfect but it was so nice. It was great to be in. Good things existed. But right now, every moment is just bad."

"But you aren't going to die here."

"I have to die sometime." She says that like she's decided that as a fact. But she struggles with the next thing. "But after…but…"

"Jess won't. Jess is going to get better."

"I'm scared to see you guys go. If I had to see you or Jess die…that's what I'm scared of, that moment when you become nothing. I don't want to be in that moment."

We're so upset and so broken so let's just say those rough, teary, sensitive words, before the setting becomes limited and these words are misplaced. This is a boundless space. There isn't anything we can say that will detach us now.

"So if Jess is gonna die, you want it to be before you do."

She nods. Begrudgingly. "I'm a terrible person."

"We all are. Now we're terrible people."

"Because she couldn't live with herself if I did while she still lived. I'm not saying I'm all that great, okay, I just said that I'm bad, but Jess has known me for what seems like forever. And she depends on me. She's strong. But she has her limits. Not her fault, but she can't function without someone else by her side. And I've been that someone ever since forever."

She shakes her head—gently now, not with fear, not the way she does in the presence of a Clawer. "Which is why I hate life, because you know the ending. All of these happy times, they aren't permanent, and you know it full well. You know there will be one day when you're alone. That's a constant, sure thing. And it's all gone and I really struggle with that, you know? I've worked hard and I don't want to be stolen from. But I can't give up so that when I do die, I don't have anything to lose...I can't shut down...I promised." She sighs. "It's almost like I don't want to be aware of death."

"It's the price you pay for living." I shrug.

"I didn't choose to be born." Angry. She's angry at herself for living.

I'd been told that that's the reason you should have faith, so that you can resolve this spiral with the fact that there is something after this. I want to believe that. I can imagine it; I don't think the universe is _that _cruel.

"Manda," I say, wrapping my arms around her. She receives the hug gratefully. "We're very much alive right now. So why are we talking about this?"

"It feels good. It feels like I haven't spoken in weeks. I want you to know, Finn, when I die, if I do happen to go first, you cannot close-off like I do with the Clawers. You cannot. I won't allow you. I…"

"I swear."

"And Jess won't cooperate with anything and let her grief run its course. Which is why I wish that Jess had a boyfriend or girlfriend or _whatever_ she ends up wanting to have. I wish she had one now. Because it's such a comfort, really, and a fear-inducer too, it's a constant reminder, telling you to stay alive for the other person."

I never thought of it that way.

Amanda breaks away and holds my forearms, her head tilted, blue eyes bright. And darkening. "But you keep her alive. Finn. That is the only thing. That is one thing I demand from you, something you must, you need to. I can't say it enough and you do anything you have to do to keep her alive—" she's starting to cry and I'm teary-eyed too, and I kiss her and yes, I'm back to when it's normal again, when we're laughing and she's so so beautiful and trading I love you's on dark, alone together nights, warmcold back and forth close late nights when I think of how lucky I am. Don't know how I ended up with Amanda. But I did.

And I need to make it so that every moment now is with her because she is everything, _Amanda is all I care about _and she kisses me more and I smile against her lips as she says my name against mine, the sound burnt in my ears and every time we break away to get air I make it as quick as I can because I can't stand being apart from her. We're close together. Our foreheads are connected. And I realize that I'm just breathing. And her hands are tangled in my hair, and her eyes are closed as she catches her breath, and we just breathe each other for a while, and she's there. I quickly kiss her lips a few times, and she sighs, her tears on my cheeks now.

"Finn…I missed you so much, but I might not be missing you very soon, for a long time. That's the scary part."

"I love you," I say. Every sound was heavy and important and she understood. I kiss her closed eyes softly. "Amanda…I love you a lot."

No one is sick and nothing will kill us and all I have in my life is Amanda. And she smiles. I haven't seen her smile in months. It's the brightest glow in this lightless place. And that's what makes me reach in for more as her lips connect to mine again but not before I see in the forest.

Mid-kiss she pulls away, the slightest, her eyes squeezed shut and she demands from herself silence and she doesn't cry, she doesn't shake her head, she holds my hands to her lips and takes these seconds. She's never been as terrified as this. I feel her feelings too, because that's what I chosen, because she's all I am, but I sense a different fear taking over me too as hundreds of Clawers stagger and crawl and growl and reach from the spaces in between the trees, nearing, nearing quickly, and the group doesn't end from as far as I can see.

Driving us out.

"I love you," Amanda answers back, dropping my hands before we escape, back through the door and into the house and screaming for everyone to move. We're all yelling now.


End file.
